Of Legends
by Mutant-Enemy-730
Summary: One-shot AU, Star Wars-verse in which the Jedi are all but a myth to the Outer Rim worlds. Clexa.
1. Portent

Disclaimer: I make no profit, in any of these fandoms.

A/N: First time posting in this fandom, longtime writer. Just a quick idea. I'll probably flesh it out in a bit, but wanted to test the waters first.  
She had heard only tales. Told late at night over the campfire. Stories to help young ones settle and sleep. Tall tales to bolster the youth. Legends to give hope to the grown.

* * *

Lexa knew, from the tales her gran used to tell her, that the color of a blade was important.

But she never thought she'd ever see the day.

Now?

Now she couldn't get her ass to scurry back fast enough and away from the fray. Her blaster had been knocked from her hand, and she knew she had to get to it and behind cover before she got hit by something more than flash grenade. The storm troopers were still advancing, and her camp was fighting back honorably.

But the blade. It was so bright, burning her vision as she stared, but she couldn't take her eyes off of it.

The figure had appeared from a nearby tent, the blue flash of the blade cutting through the night, causing a ripple of surprise and, maybe, fear, to shudder through the battle lines. Lexa watched as several storm troopers ceased firing on a group of her people and targeted the figure. They wore a dark robe, the hood up, and any sense of who or what they were was encased in the billowing fabric.

The blade arced and swung through the air, the hum reverberating in Lexa's bones as she watched, not even noticing that shots were getting closer to her. It wasn't until the figure was almost upon her that Lexa finally twisted around, and reached for her blaster. Her boots dug into the dirt as she felt a hand at her back, pushing her behind a low wall. Spinning around, Lexa leveled her blaster and took aim, firing a few rounds at the troopers. Two fell and the other two collapsed as the figure deflected their own blaster bolts back at them.

Turning slowly, the figure took in the camp, noting that the firefight had all but ceased; the remaining storm troopers were retreating. Holding the blade vertically, the power was cut and the blade went silent. Lexa blinked in the sudden darkness and swallowed thickly. The figure's hood had slipped after they had pushed Lexa behind the wall, probably in their attempt to get a sightline on the troopers, and Lexa was struck at the shock of blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun.

Her camp had been harboring a Jedi.

A young, female, a _ttractive_ Jedi.

If her gran could only see her now.


	2. Pathos

Lexa inhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing pulse. Sooth the startled nerves. Exhaling, she opened her eyes, watching Clarke raise an eyebrow at her.

"Better?"

Lexa nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. Extricating herself from where she lay sprawled on the floor, Lexa stood up, dusting herself off slightly. Clearly the feeling of the Force physically moving you was not what she had fantasized it being.

Clarke had been clear from the start, Lexa had shown potential. The Force was flowing through her, channeling her abilities into strong leadership and stalwart decisions. While she was next in line to lead her people, Lexa had always felt like something was off. As if she were missing a part of her true self.

Clarke had appeared like a gatekeeper, willing to aid her in her search. So she had left. Her camp. Her people. Her entire planet.

Following a lone Jedi, who only used the Jedi codes as she saw fit.

When she was young, Lexa had been taught that the Jedi of lore were famous for their impartial decisions, their peacemaking capabilities, and their emphasis on harmony. As she trained with Clarke, she was finding that the Force, while it was powerful when commanded by a rational head at either end of the spectrum, there was perhaps a greater impact when channeling the Force from a neutral perspective.

Everything in the universe had a balance, Clarke had told her.

"There are beings who, by their very nature, are the enforcers of that balance. It isn't always a battle for the future of the galaxy between the Sith and the Jedi, or good and evil. Some of the worst battles aren't about good or evil at all. Most are fought without blades or blasters. They are fought with words, at a table, over a difference of opinion."

Lexa remembered Clarke's face as she had spoken, and felt as if a small part of Clarke's past was being given voice. Clarke had moved on in the lesson quickly, not giving Lexa any time to inquire further. The point was made, and Lexa was aware that the Force, while everywhere, did not always mean an epic adventure, or a battle between what one perceived to be the good guys and the bad guys, but rather, the Force channeled what one believed in, and if one believed strongly enough, perhaps the universe could be brought to its knees.

Shaking her head to clear it, Lexa asked breathlessly, "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Clarke allowed a glimmer of a smile to appear on her face before nodding once, "In time. Your mind must be willing to make it so."

"Mind over matter?"

Clarke seemed to weigh the comparison with a tilt of her head before answering, "Yes, but more so head over heart."

Lexa swallowed reflexively at the statement, the phrase, " _Love is weakness,_ " her guardian's constant lesson and rejoinder, echoing in her mind. Clarke continued, noticing but not remarking on Lexa's reticence.

"In my experience, the heart often makes a leap of faith in the Force long before the mind, and is waiting for you to mentally catch up. Having heart and committing to the Force comes naturally to you, and is not something you need worrying over. But getting your mind to quiet and trust in what your heart did from the start? That takes training. Takes time."

Lexa nodded, her brow furrowed as she mulled over Clarke's words. When she replied, it was slowly, as if she was trying out the words for the first time.

"Sounds like, love."

Clarke raised her eyebrow again, a smile tugging her lips up, "That's because it is."


	3. Form II

Lexa had almost forgotten how bright Clarke's blade was. She remembered the blinding shock of blue scorching the very air around it. She remembered how bright Clarke's eyes were when she finally saw them, and couldn't help but think that her mind must have instinctively chosen blue to match. She remembered being as dumbstruck by Clarke's eyes as her lightsaber.

Seeing Clarke's mouth slightly agape when she opened her eyes to look at her newly built blade, Lexa felt a sense of empathy.

She couldn't help feeling a sense of wholeness when she saw the bright green light bursting from her blade. In that moment, she understood. The blade was a part of her in a way she hadn't fully grasped. It was not only an extension of her training and abilities, it was an extension of herself. It reflected her as much as her decisions would be reflected in its movements.

"Have you thought much about how you would like to train with it?" Clarke asked after composing herself and coming closer to Lexa.

Lexa watched Clarke sit slowly across from her, her robe falling open enough to allow the green light of her blade to shine on the hilt of Clarke's lightsaber. Licking her lips, Lexa closed her eyes and powered off her blade.

"I have, a little."

Clarke hummed but remained otherwise silent, her eyebrow arching in question.

Lexa allowed her lips to flicker up slightly. Clarke knew she had been weighted down with this decision, as it was easier to focus on one form of training, rather than mixing multiple forms at once.

"I like what you have shown me so far. From what I have read and watched on the holodocs, it is a mixture of Shien and Soresu, which in this shifting time after the fall of the Empire, seems appropriate."

Clarke smiled appreciatively, her eyes flicking down to the ground bashfully as her cheeks flushed at the flattery. Lexa licked her lips again, her stomach aflutter at the reaction. Clarke had been nothing if not a calm, and reasonable guide and friend to her. Her own feelings had been shelved as much as possible as she came to respect Clarke's direct and training-focused regimen.

She had witnessed cracks in the façade over the months, however. Catching a lingering glance, a gratuitous touch at the hip, shoulder, or elbow, and on the rare occasion, a subtle flirtation. Lexa knew that the Jedi training Clarke had been given, while obviously of the New Order and wrought with a more relaxed view on controlling emotions, still instilled a sense of control over one's feelings. If Clarke did feel something for her, it would be buried deep under years of training.

Sighing at the prospect, Lexa shook her head slightly, "I would also like to study the basics of Makashi, if possible."

Clarke's head tipped up sharply at the statement, and her eyes narrowed after a pause, "Is this because of the high usage of electrostaffs by your people and their enemies?"

Lexa nodded, "At some point, Clarke, I will return to my people, and I need to be able to protect them."

Clarke nodded in understanding, but Lexa was left feeling that Clarke was not happy with the statement. Reaching out, Lexa placed her hand on Clarke's knee, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her touch. "Worry not, I'm not planning on going anywhere that isn't with you, but please understand my reasons."

"I do, Lexa. I worry less about you needing to return to your people and more about Makashi and how it may change you." Lexa swallowed. She too had thought about it. "It's an aggressive, duel-oriented style. What you are telling me, is that you wish to train with the goal of battling others in combat."

"No, Clarke, I am not." Lexa swallowed nervously, her thumb sliding from the side of Clarke's knee and up to the top, pressing against her index finger. "What I am asking for, is the ability to stop a battle before it gets out of hand, should it arise. My people were born out of the ravages of war, and live by its rules. I wish to train how to best use this," Lexa raised her lightsaber up slightly from her lap, "In a way where it is used least."


End file.
